


The Life Sentence

by Spockaholic



Category: Junjou Romantica
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Pining, Pre-Series, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-06 04:12:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8734462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spockaholic/pseuds/Spockaholic
Summary: Pre-series Romantica. As the dust of tragedy begins to settle in the Takahashi home, Takahiro and Misaki are plagued with uncertainty as they contemplate a life without their parents. Unbeknownst to each other, they both turn to the same unlikely and occasionally reluctant source for counsel: a lovelorn and decidedly kid-unfriendly Akihiko.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story could either be considered canon divergent or canon compliant, depending on how (or if) you want to tie it in with the manga.

If there was one creed by which Usami Akihiko steadfastly lived, it was that whatever Takahashi Takahiro wanted, Takahashi Takahiro got. If Akihiko could provide it, Takahiro could have it, end of discussion. So when Akihiko's phone rang in the middle of the night and it was Takahiro, begging him to come over and drink with him, the only question in Akihiko's mind was how fast he could drive over to his friend's apartment without getting arrested.

Under normal circumstances, he might have had cause to question such an odd request from such a straitlaced person, but tonight, it seemed perfectly reasonable. Tomorrow, Takahiro would wake up early, prepare a lunch for his little brother for the first time, and send him off to school. Then he would walk through the doors of Mitsuhashi University, make a beeline for the registrar’s office, and withdraw his enrollment. Cook books would replace the text books he had scrimped and saved to buy. He would set aside the dreams of his youth and step into a role he was ten years too young to play.

So if he wanted to drink tonight, then Akihiko would drink with him. And if he wanted to cry, then Akihiko would hold him while he cried. And if, in his drunken state, he allowed Akihiko to sit closer to him than his sense of propriety would normally dictate, then Akihiko would do so, hating himself all the while for the dark pleasure that boiled within him at the privilege of being the one Takahiro had chosen to keep him company when he was at his most vulnerable.

Takahiro was already swaying when he answered the door.

"Thanks for coming, Usami." He stepped aside to let Akihiko in.

A barrage of scents flooded Akihiko as he removed his shoes in the entryway. The rice straw smell of the tatami mat mingled with the ghost of the miso soup that Takahiro must have cooked for supper. Smells of a home small enough to actually carry a distinct scent. Smells of a place inhabited by an actual family. Completely unfamiliar to Akihiko, who grew up on furniture polish and disinfectant spray, yet strangely nostalgic, as if he knew by instinct that this was the way a real home should smell.

"Hope you don't mind, but I already got started," Takahiro said with a sheepish grin.

Which was the understatement of the century, judging from his bleary eyes and beer-soaked breath.

In a daze, Akihiko followed his friend to the living room, carefully navigating through a minefield of discarded beer cans that littered the tatami. No sooner had he seated himself at the low table in the centre of the room than Takahiro was pushing a can of beer into his hands.

"The relatives forgot to take their alcohol when they left," Takahiro said, settling in beside him. "I figured I might as well get one big hurrah in before I settle down and become a responsible guardian." He smiled gratefully as Akihiko pulled the tab of his can, watching him drink as if Akihiko was doing him the world's biggest favor.

"I'm really glad you're here," Takahiro continued. "It's my first night with just Misaki and me, and I just..." he looked away "...I didn't want to be alone tonight. And...well, you were the first person I thought of."

Though his friend's words were the stuff of the fantasies Akihiko often scrawled in the notebooks he kept hidden in his bedroom closet, they were so thick with despondency that the surge of dream fulfillment that spiked Akihiko's pulse was instantly tempered with cold reality. It was a dream come true in the midst of a living nightmare.

As he watched Takahiro slugging back the remainder of his own beer in a series of greedy gulps and grimacing at the unaccustomed taste, Akihiko couldn't help but marvel at how quickly fate could make a mockery of all he had believed impossible. Just a couple of weeks ago, the thought of sweet, rule-abiding Takahiro having the audacity to get shitfaced drunk in his parents' living room on a school night would have been downright laughable. Now, there was nothing even remotely amusing about the rebellious about-face in his behavior. If Takahashi "I-can't-drink-yet-I'm-still-a-minor" Takahiro was drinking without reserve in his family home on a school night, it was because his parents were never going to scold him for it. _Ever._

 

* * *

"Hey Usami. Do you want to hear a secret?"

Takahiro's eyes were slightly crossed as he stared into the mouth of his beer can. They had been drinking and visiting for about an hour. The six pack on the low table had dwindled to a skeleton of plastic rings. Considering that Akihiko was only on his second beer of the evening, he was frankly astonished that his teetotaler friend could still sound reasonably sane, albeit slightly slushy.

Akihiko favored him with a questioning "Hm?" and waited for him to continue.

"I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I _want_ to."

"Are you talking about raising Misaki-kun?" Akihiko asked.

Takahiro nodded. His eyes flicked guiltily toward the bedroom screen door across the room, as if he expected to see the little boy in question standing there, gazing at him with a crestfallen expression.

"It's not that he's hard to handle or anything. Cuz he's not. He's a great kid. The greatest."

"Of course he is," said Akihiko, who had never met the kid in his life. At this point, he would have agreed to anything, as long as it would keep Takahiro talking to him in that low, confidential voice.

Emboldened by Akihiko's support, Takahiro continued.

"It's just...I dunno. I had this whole life planned out for myself. Everything I've done over the last few years--saving up money, going to cram school. Mitsuhashi University was my _dream,_ Usami! How am I supposed to just give that all up?"

An image of a newly leased apartment flashed in Akihiko's mind--an apartment large enough to easily accommodate two students, and located centrally between their respective universities. An apartment that he had been working up the nerve to ask a certain best friend to share with him before he had received the phone call that changed everything. His beer can crumpled a little under the force of his grip.

"No one should have to give up on their dreams," he muttered.

Takahiro gave him a look that was so shot with gratitude that Akihiko had to avert his face, as if the very purity of it would melt him to slag.

"It isn't fair," Takahiro continued. "Not for me, and especially not for Misaki. He's such a great kid. He should be able to have a great childhood. But how can _I_ provide that for him? I'm practically still a kid myself! I can't even buy my own alcohol and I'm supposed to go to his parent-teacher interviews?!"

"So? It's not like the teachers will expect you to bring beer to those things," Akihiko pointed out.

Takahiro gaped uncomprehendingly at him for a few seconds, then let out a sudden bray of laughter that was completely disproportionate to the quality of Akihiko's quip.

"You can be so weird sometimes, Usagi." He paused. "Waitaminute. Did I just call you _Usagi_?"

Akihiko shrugged.

"You're drunk," he said by way of explanation.

 "Oh wow, that's like the perfect name for you. Usagi!" Takahiro's eyes contracted into a mirthful squint as he grinned nodded at his own ingenuity.

"I'm cutting you off for the night," Akihiko said in a flat voice. "No more beer for you."

"Yes sir," Takahiro replied smartly. " _Usagi,_ " he added for good measure, bursting into a flood of laughter.

When Takahiro was finally able to rein in his chuckles, he sighed and slumped forward as if the effort to get himself under control had drained him. His head lolled precariously close to Akihiko's shoulder. The clean scent of recently shampooed hair floated in the air between them. Akihiko's beer crunched into a twisted wreck in his fist. He set it down on the coffee table.

"I've been thinking..."

Takahiro's voice, now subdued, broke through the silence.

"After the funeral, my grandparents pulled me aside and told me that they'd be willing to take Misaki in if I changed my mind about raising him myself. What if...what if I were to keep Misaki just until the end of the school year and then take them up on their offer?"

Never in his life was Akihiko so grateful for his mask of impassivity, polished to perfection over the lonely years of his childhood. It slipped onto his face with ease, concealing the wild hope that sparked within him.

"Oh?" he said in his most neutral voice.

"They're in a better financial position to support him, and they actually know how to raise children properly. He'd probably have a greater shot at having a normal childhood with them," Takahiro said.

But would he be as loved?

Akihiko shoved the thought aside. He didn't know the kid. He didn't need to worry about his emotional well-being. Not when he had Takahiro to think of--Takahiro, who would want for nothing if he would agree to move in with him...

"It's not like I'd never see him again," Takahiro continued, disrupting his train of thought. "There's always holidays, birthdays...and who knows? Maybe after I graduate from university and settle into a good career, I could send for him to come live with me. I'll have more money to support him by then, and he wouldn't need as much supervision as he would now."

Though outwardly he maintained his composure, it was all Akihiko could do to keep from throwing himself at his friend's feet and begging him to start packing Misaki's suitcase. A series of images, each more tantalizing than the last, began a slideshow in his mind's eye:

Takahiro beaming at him over the breakfast table as Akihiko dished him out a second helping of eggs.

Takahiro striding into the living room, bare-chested with a damp towel draped over his hips, telling him that the bath was free.

Takahiro, writhing beneath him in frenzied pleasure as Akihiko pressed his lips to his ear and murmured the words that he had been longing to speak since Takahiro had first turned that guileless smile his way.

"Yeah, I think that's what I'm gonna do." Takahiro slapped his fist against his palm and nodded to himself. "It's better for us both in the long run. He might have a hard time with it at first, but he'll adjust. He's such a strong little guy."

He smiled at Akihiko, looking so sure of himself that in an instant of reckless abandon, Akihiko threw his mask aside and allowed an encouraging smile to cross his face.

"You see? He's going to be just fine."

Takahiro froze. He stared at Akihiko, his eyes going wide and overbright.

"Will he?" His mouth began to tremble.

"Hey. _Hey._ " Akihiko briefly placed his hand atop Takahiro's. That small gesture of solidarity seemed to demolish some sort of internal wall. Takahiro lowered his head and drew in a shuddering breath.

"I just love my brother so much," Takahiro said in a strangled voice. "I want him to be happy. I do! But I'm not a saint. I want my own happiness just as much--probably even more. How can I be happy if I have to throw away the life I worked so hard to make for myself? And if _I'm_ not happy, how can I make Misaki happy? That kid is freakishly intuitive. He'd see through me in an instant, and it would kill him."

He squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth contorting into a grimace.

"I hate this," he choked out. "I don't want to be a responsible adult making adult decisions anymore. I want this all to end. I want..."

He raised his head and opened his eyes, releasing a pair of tears that zigzagged down his face, one after another.

"...I want Mom and Dad," he whispered.

As Akihiko fixed his gaze on the ceiling to give his friend a measure of privacy, Takahiro let out a long overdue sob, rested his head on the surface of the coffee table, and wept. Helpless in the face of such raw anguish, Akihiko scooted closer to him and rested a tentative hand on his shoulder. It was all he would allow himself to do, for he was familiar enough with his own depravity to know how easily his body could twist the intent of his caresses. Never before had Takahiro seemed so vulnerable, so accessible to him. How easy it would be to gather Takahiro into his arms, stroke that dishevelled hair, and kiss away those tears. It would be nearly everything Akihiko had ever dreamed of doing to his friend. And for the scant moments that it lasted, it would almost be worth the lifetime of self-reproach that would follow.

They stayed like for several long moments until Takahiro, spent from his grief, lifted his head from the coffee table with what seemed like a herculean effort.

"Hey, Usami?"

Akihiko's heart ached to hear his name used in such a small voice.

"Hmm?"

"You're the smartest person I've ever met. Couldn't you tell me what I'm supposed to do? You'd have the right answer; I just know it."

Thickened with fatigue, Takahiro's voice was the echo of the child he had once been--a child in need of someone older and wiser to tell him how to make sense of a world that suddenly seemed so big and frightening. A child who was forever deprived of his parents' comfort and counsel, forced to settle for the worst possible alternative.

Akihiko took in the sight of those wet, bleary eyes regarding him as if he was the sum of all wisdom and couldn't believe that his friend didn't already know.

Wasn't it obvious?

_Let the kid live with his grandparents._

_Move in with me._

_Let me make you happy._

_Let me love you._

So many things he wanted to say. So many reasons the words had to remain locked behind his lips.

"I think..." Akihiko grasped Takahiro by the forearm "...that you've done enough thinking for one day. You need to rest." He rose to his feet and helped his friend up. Placing his hand on the small of Takahiro's back, he steered Takahiro over to the sofa.

"Lie down," he ordered. Takahiro did as he was told. His eyes were trained on Akihiko's face, as if he was eager to please him with his compliance. Akihiko knelt beside him. On impulse, he laid a hand on Takahiro's forehead, carding his fingers through silky bangs. Takahiro closed his eyes and made a little hum of contentment that threatened to unravel the final threads of Akihiko's self-control.

"It's okay to want things for yourself, you know."

Akihiko spoke in low, crooning tones. Takahiro nodded wordlessly. A fresh tear slid down the side of his face, and Akihiko thumbed it away. He fished a crimson handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his shirt and pressed it into Takahiro's hand. Takahiro smiled weakly in thanks and dabbed at his runny nose. They lapsed into another silence, Takahiro shedding the occasional tear and Akihiko brushing it away. Gradually, Takahiro's sniffles began to recede. He kept his eyes closed. Akihiko relished the opportunity to gaze down at his friend so unabashedly, drinking in the sight of the tear-spiked eyelashes and parted lips.

"I know you feel like you have to be strong and decisive right now, but you don't." Akihiko's voice felt abnormally loud in the midst of the hush that had descended upon them, but he pressed on. "Misaki-kun isn't the only one who lost his parents. He shouldn't be the only one being looked after. You could let yourself be looked after too." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "You could let _me_ look after you..."

Takahiro was fast asleep. The handkerchief had slipped out of the hand that dangled over the edge of the sofa and lay in a rumpled heap on the floor. Soft snores rumbled from his slightly open mouth. A thin line of drool trailed down the corner of his bottom lip, effectively flipping off the switch in Akihiko's brain labelled "self-control." Greatly daring, he lowered his face close enough so that the tips of his bangs brushed against Takahiro's forehead. Sour beer breath wafted into his nose, doing dangerous thing to the pit of his stomach. He was close enough that he could count every crack and line in Takahiro's dry lips. Would they feel like sandpaper pressed against his own? It would only cost him his personal integrity to find out, but he could deal with that later. He would spend the rest of his life making it up to Takahiro and being the unselfish, supportive friend he deserved, but let him have just this one thing.

He leaned in closer. His heart drummed in anticipation. Just a little more...

"No!"

A faint, childish cry sliced through the haze of desire. He jerked away.

"No!" The voice was coming from the bedroom. Misaki. He cursed inwardly.

_Not now, kid,_ he pleaded mentally.

"No!"

_Of all times, not now..._

"NO!"

Takahiro grimaced and shifted in his sleep. Akihiko's breath caught in his throat. His mind raced. He knew he should leave well enough alone. Children were about as high on his list of favorite things in the universe as bell peppers and early mornings. Chances were, the kid would scream himself awake and then go back to sleep once he realized he had been dreaming. Problem solved. But if he didn't do it soon, Takahiro would wake up--Takahiro, whose hollowed eyes spoke of too many nights without a proper rest. Takahiro, whose hair felt so exquisitely soft in the spaces between his fingers...

"NOOO!"

_Shut up kid. For the love of god, shut up..._

A long silence followed. Akihiko sighed and relaxed.

"Nii-chaaaan!"

_Dammit!_

That did it. The spell was over. Akihiko rose to his feet. He He threw a frustrated glance over his shoulder at Takahiro's sleeping form, then padded across the tatami to the sliding screen door that separated the living room from Misaki's bedroom. He might not know the first thing about dealing with kids, but he would be damned if he let this one take away Takahiro's chance at getting a good night's sleep. Gripping the shoji door handle, Akihiko took a deep breath and mentally braced himself to come face to face with Takahashi Misaki for the first time.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Covering My Own Ass Disclamer Number One: I don't own Junjou Romantica. I just like to tinker around with the characters.  
> Covering My Own Ass Disclaimer Number Two: I do not personally recommend the Usami Akihiko method of dealing with children to anyone who exists outside of the messed-up yet magical world of Junjou Romantica :P

Akihiko slid the door partially open and poked his head inside the room. Through the semi-darkness, he could make out the small form of a boy sitting bolt upright on his futon. The screaming had ceased, replaced with short, shuddering breaths that caused tiny shoulders to rise and fall. Hopefully that meant that the kid would go back to sleep soon. Satisfied, Akihiko started to slide the door shut.

"Who's there?!" a reedy voice cried out.

Akihiko scowled. So much not having to interact with the child-thing.

"Whatever you were screaming about, it was only a dream," Akihiko said. "Go back to sleep,"

 "Who are you?"

 "Never mind. Just lie down and shut up."

 Akihiko grimaced as he watched the boy flinch at his gruff words. This was exactly why he avoided kids.

 Though the small face that regarded him was shrouded in darkness, Akihiko could feel the intensity of his stare on a nearly physical level.

 "Are you a burglar?" Misaki asked.

 "No."

 "Are you going to murder me?"

 There was something in that plaintive voice that called out to something sadistic in Akihiko. He couldn't help but want to bully the kid a little.

 "Should I?" he asked.

 A long pause.

 "I-I don't think my brother would like that..."

 The scared diplomacy in the boy's voice wrenched an involuntary smile from Akihiko's lips. He dropped the smile when it occurred to him that the brother in question wouldn't find this nearly as amusing.

"Lucky for you I'm not a murderer," he said. "I'm friends with Takahiro."

"Where's Nii-chan?"

"He's passed out in the living room."

He saw the boy flinch again and mentally kicked himself. Too late, he realized that he should have just said "sleeping."

"Passed out?" Misaki repeated, his voice rising in alarm. "Why? What happened to him?"

"He got drunk and fell asleep."

 "Oh."

The two stared at each other in strained silence for several seconds. Finally, unable to think of anything else to say, Akihiko muttered a curt "goodnight," slid the door shut and headed back to the living room sofa.

By some miracle, Takahiro was still asleep. Akihiko smiled to himself as he drank in the sight. The Takahiro who frequented his daydreams had always looked much more beatific in slumber. Curled in a fetal position, glasses askance, soft snores pouring from his open mouth, this Takahiro was anything but. And yet, the Takahiro in his fantasies had never threatened to overwhelm him with such a powerful surge of longing. What he wouldn't give to crawl onto the sofa with him and lie with him in a cocoon of tangled limbs. Fat chance of that happening. Especially now that the brat was awake.

Sighing, he picked up the remote control from the low table, settled into a nearby armchair, and clicked the television on. The screen flickered to life, showing a woman in a gold sequined dress waltzing with a tuxedoed man in what looked like a ballroom dance competition. He watched disinterestedly.

A few minutes later, Akihiko became aware the sound of Misaki's screen door sliding open at irregular intervals. Out of his peripheral vision, he spied a small head peering through the gap. Akihiko craned his neck in the direction of the bedroom. The head retreated. They repeated the process a few more times until Akihiko grew tired of it and pressed the "mute" button on the remote control.

"I can see you peeking through the door," he called. "You might as well quit spying on me and just get out here."

Akihiko heard a small gap, then dead silence. He waited. After a moment's deliberation, Takahashi Misaki slid his door fully open and shuffled into view.

Akihiko fought to keep a smirk from his face as he regarded the little interloper. Whatever Takahiro's effusive descriptions had caused him to expect, it certainly wasn't this slack-jawed mite with misaligned buttons on his Pokemon pajamas and mop of sparrow brown hair jutting from his head at odd angles. The kid gaped at Akihiko with absurdly large eyes the color of Dom Perignon bottles. Give him a tail, and he could pass for a lemur trying to pass as a child. 

When it became clear that Misaki had little else planned but to stand there and gawk at him, Akihiko fixed him with a look of bored contempt.

"Isn't it a little late to be out of bed?" he asked. "Little brats should be sleeping right now."

Misaki startled a little at being addressed. His look of fear gave way to an obstinate scowl.

"It's _my_ house, you know," he muttered.

So the kid had some spirit. Huh.

"Do whatever you want," Akihiko said. He flicked his hand in a dismissive gesture, then returned his attention to the television, turning up the volume. He feigned an interest in the waltzing couples on the screen, all the while mentally willing the kid to return to his bedroom.

Apparently, Misaki had other plans. Growing bolder, he inched toward the couch, careful to avoid the smattering of beer cans on the tatami. He loomed over the sleeping Takahiro, peering at his snoring face.

"Is Nii-chan going to be okay?" he asked.

 "He'll be fine." Akihiko forced himself to speak more gently when he noted the slight tremble in the kid's voice. "He might have a headache or feel sick tomorrow, but it's nothing to worry about. Just make sure you're not too loud around him."

Misaki gave an obedient nod. He picked up the plastic six pack rings from the table, turning them over his hands as he examined them.

It occurred to Akihiko that although he had never put much stock in paranormal abilities, it might not be a bad time to find out if he had a latent aptitude for telepathic suggestion. He narrowed his eyes, flexed the muscles in his temples, and concentrated.

_You're getting sleepy...you want to go back to bed...you're going to get the hell out of my sight and leave me the hell alone..._

"What's it like to be drunk?"

Oh, great. Now it wanted to make conversation. To hell with telepathy.

Akihiko mentally counted to three before answering.

"It's different for everyone," he said.

If only Takahiro hadn't hogged so much of the beer. Surely drinking himself into a blackout would have been preferable than trying to make nice with the Bug-Eyed Wonder. He rose from his seat and walked over to Misaki, who had picked up a beer can and was giving the interior an experimental sniff.

Akihiko snatched the can from his hand and replaced it with the remote control.

"Here." Akihiko set the empty can down on the table. "Watch TV or something. I'm stepping outside for some fresh air."

Ignoring the kid's pop-eyed stare, he crossed the living room and opened the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. The evening chill in the air braced his skin as he stepped outside. He ducked under a laundry line as he made his way over to metal railing that overlooked the neighborhood. His mood lifted slightly at the quaint display of shirts and pairs of pants undulating in the breeze. It was the little things like this that reminded him of how different his world was from Takahiro's. How he would love to inhabit a world in which his clothes smelled like sunshine the way Takahiro's did. Maybe if he managed to talk Takahiro into sending Misaki away moving in with him, Takahiro could teach him how to line dry his laundry. Maybe their own shirts could hang side by side on a clothesline, dancing in tandem to the rhythm of the wind...

His daydreams of domesticity came to an abrupt halt when heard the sound of the screen door sliding open. He fastened his gaze on the city skyline as Misaki sidled up beside him.

"My dad says it's not good to get drunk," Misaki informed him. He spoke with a casual confidence that betrayed a belief that his status as a child made him automatically exempt from an adult's disdain. God, how Akihiko would love to prove him wrong.

Akihiko closed his eyes to prevent a death glare from seeping through.

_Be nice, if only for Takahiro's sake_.

"Is that so?" he said between gritted teeth.

"Yeah. He says there's nothing wrong with drinking alcohol, but that you shouldn't drink just so you can get drunk."

Akihiko sighed.

"Kid, look. I really don't feel like--"

"--he's dead now. My mom too."

Akihiko's mouth snapped shut.

"We had a funeral and everything."

A sick, guilty feeling congealed in his gut at the frank despondency in Misaki's voice. Here, Akihiko had been blaming the kid for the loss of something that had never been his in the first place, when all the while, the object of his ire was still reeling from one of the most profound types of loss imaginable. Even for him, that was a new level of selfishness. This was unacceptable. He had to do better.

"I know. I heard about it," Akihiko said. Then, because he couldn't think of anything consoling or wise to say, he added, "That's shitty."

Misaki did a double-take. Clearly, he was unused to hearing a curse word dropped freely in his presence. And yet, there was a small upturning of his lips that told Akihiko exactly where he stood on the matter.

"Y-yeah," Misaki stammered. After a slight pause, he added, "S-shitty."

His eyes swung guiltily back to Akihiko's face in preparation for a reprimand. Akihiko returned his gaze dispassionately.

Bolstered by Akihiko's silence, Misaki continued.

"I just had a nightmare about them. Mom and Dad."

"Is that why you were screaming like a baby?" Akihiko asked.

"Well, I couldn't help it, it was a bad dream!" Misaki retorted. A pause. "Do you want me to tell you about it?"

Akihiko shrugged.

"Not really."

"Oh. Okay." Disappointment dripped from Misaki's voice. He pursed his lips and glowered at Akihiko, eyes baleful under the shards of his bangs. "I bet you're not very popular with kids," he muttered.

"I'm not a big fan of kids," Akihiko replied evenly. He gave Misaki a pointed look. "I find them annoying."

Rather than bristle with indignation as Akihiko expected, Misaki gave a sage nod, as if they were fellow gurus exchanging secrets of the universe with each other.

"I'm not a popular guy either," Misaki continued in a matter-of-fact voice. "But I do have some friends at school that I hang out with. I'm kinda right in the middle. One of the average kids."

Akihiko could see why. The only remarkable thing about this kid at all was how ordinary he was. It was as if he was the living embodiment of one of those famous soup can paintings.

"My brother's popular, though."

Against his better judgement, Akihiko couldn't help but perk up at the mention of Takahiro.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah! Probably because he's so smart. And nice. He's a really great guy."

"The greatest," Akihiko agreed.

Their eyes met. In that unaffected gaze, Akihiko saw not the combative glare of a rival for Takahiro's affections, but rather the delighted kinship of a fellow enthusiast. For the first time that evening, a shy grin blossomed on Misaki's face. His lips slid apart, revealing an awkward conglomeration of oversized, partially growing, and conspicuously absent teeth. The effect was strangely endearing and Akihiko's own mouth curved in response.

Apparently deciding that any friend of Takahiro's was a friend of his, Misaki shuffled a little closer beside him, leaning forward to grip the iron bars of the balcony in his fists. Akihiko stifled a sigh and decided to permit the intrusion. He would have the rest of his life to enjoy Takahiro's company, however limited. Surely he could afford to give up part of one evening tolerating the brother.

"Yeah, my Nii-chan is awesome," Misaki murmured.

A clouded look crawled over his face.

"I just wish he wasn't so sad right now." He stopped and looked at Akihiko. Taking Akihiko's silence as permission to continue, he sighed and pressed on. "He tries to look brave in front of me so I won't get scared. But I can tell. Sometimes, he goes into the bathroom and stays in there for a really long time, but I don't think he's pooping, cuz when he comes out, his eyes are all puffy and red..."

He cut himself off with a strangled noise. High color rose to his cheeks as he clapped his hands over his mouth. "Um. Please don't tell him I said that," he mumbled through his palms.

Akihiko studied him for a moment.

"He's going to be sad for a long time. You know that, right?" he said.

Misaki removed his hands from his mouth.

"Yeah. I know." After a furtive glance at Akihiko, he added, "That's so sh-shitty." The word seemed as out of place in his small mouth as his burgeoning adult teeth. Akihiko favored him with a thin smile.

"The shittiest," he agreed.

They lapsed into a thoughtful silence. Now that Misaki seemed to have relaxed in Akihiko's company, he didn't seem as compelled to stare at him as before, content to simply mimic Akihiko's crossed-arm posture and gaze out at the twinkling Tokyo cityscape with him. As much as Akihiko would have preferred to be left alone, he was surprised to find that he no longer had the heart to send the kid away. Maybe the lateness of the hour was getting to him and he was too tired to be annoyed. Or maybe he just couldn't bring himself to dismiss someone who had spoken so impassionedly of his concern for Takahiro. Either way, it was strangely...not uncomfortable having him around.

"Do you want to hear a secret?"

Alarm bells went off in Akihiko's head at the hushed, hesitant note in Misaki's voice. Maybe he had gotten ahead of himself.

"Not really," he replied without thinking.

The drop in Misaki's shoulders was so visible that Akihiko sighed and decided to throw him a bone.

"But don't let that stop you from telling me one," he added.

He watched in mild amusement as a series of facial acrobatics flitted over Misaki's face. Eyebrows alternately scrunched and relaxed. His lips protruded and retracted. It was as if each thought that flitted through his brain came with its own accompanying emotion and facial expression. It must be exhausting to be him.

"It's my fault that Nii-chan is sad," Misaki said. "I'm the one who made Mom and Dad die."

"You killed your parents?" This time, it was Akihiko's turn to gape. And here he'd thought the kid was going to tell him that he still wet the bed, or something similarly innocuous.

Misaki gave a miserable nod.

"...but I didn't mean to," he added.

Akihiko sighed inwardly. Just his luck that the one time he tried to make an effort to be civil to a kid, he would find himself the receiving end of a spontaneous murder confession. If only he hadn't dropped his guard. Misaki could be asleep by now, and he would be back to comfortably pining over unrequited love. He hadn't had nearly enough alcohol to deal with this.

"Involuntary manslaughter," he muttered absently.

"Pardon?"

"Involuntary manslaughter. That's the official term for when someone accidentally kills another person."

Misaki nodded.

"That sounds like me, alright," he said. "I'm an involuntary manslaughterer."

Akihiko shrugged.

"We've all done things we're not proud of," he said. What the hell was he supposed to say?!

Misaki frowned at the lack of fanfare that his admission had garnered.

"Do people who involuntary manslaughter other people have to go to jail?" he asked.

"Sometimes."

" _I_ should probably go to jail," Misaki said.

This was getting ridiculous. Clearly, the boy was carrying some serious baggage. Why he had chosen to unload it on the person least qualified to help him was beyond Akihiko's comprehension. He had to shut this down as quickly as possible.

"If you want, I could arrest you."

He was almost as surprised by his own words as Misaki, whose mouth fell open so dramatically, Akihiko was surprised he hadn't dislocated his jaw in the process.

"What do you mean?" Misaki asked.

An idea unfurled in Akihiko's mind as the kid reverted back to giving him the ol' googly eyes.

"I'm a police officer," Akihiko said.

Surely if faced with the threat of actually going to jail, Misaki's fear would make him pliant enough that Akihiko could order him to go to bed and get the rest he needed.

"But you said you were Nii-chan's friend," Misaki said.

Akihiko shrugged.

"Police officers need friends too."

Misaki's disheveled little head cocked to one side as if that piece of information was a physical weight on his brain. Akihiko held his breath waited for him to dismiss his claim. Now that his plan was in motion, it seemed as ill-conceived as a first draft manuscript under the scrutiny of a seasoned editor Child or not, there was no way someone related to Takahiro could actually be dumb enough to fall for such an obvious ruse.

"Nii-chan is friends with a _cop?_ " Misaki grinned and puffed out his chest. "Awesome."

A wry smile tugged at Akihiko's lips. So apparently intelligence wasn't a prerequisite for being Takahiro's blood kin.

"Can I see your gun?" There was no mistaking the hopeful glint in Misaki's eyes.

"I left it at the police station," Akihiko replied, the lie rolling easily off his tongue.

Misaki's face promptly fell.

"What about your badge?" he tried.

"It's also at the police station."

"Handcuffs?"

"Police station."

Misaki threw him a disgusted look.

"That wasn't very smart of you," he grumbled.

"It's my day off."

"Well, maybe next time you should bring them. Just in case. You never know when you're gonna meet a bad guy," Misaki said.

Akihiko watched in mild astonishment as Misaki lifted a forefinger and actually _wagged_ it at him. Who the hell did this little guy think he was? Here he was--heir to a billion dollar corporation, a prominent young author on a meteoric rise to fame--and an eight year old saw fit to scold him like a damn fishwife! He didn't know whether the kid deserved a cuff or pat on the head for his audacity.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said wryly.

The satisfied look on Misaki's face lasted for all of two seconds. Akihiko could almost hear the rustle of a page turning in the his head as a new thought seemed to strike him. His expression morphed into wide-eyed excitement.

"I got an idea that can help you," Misaki said. Abruptly, he spun on his heels and headed for the interior of the apartment. "Please wait there, officer-san!" he called over his shoulder.

And to his own surprise, Akihiko listened to him.

When Misaki returned to Akihiko's side a few moments later, he was holding something behind his back..

"I made this for you," he announced. Smiling with shy pride, he pressed something that felt suspiciously like garbage into Akihiko's hand. Akihiko examined the object. It was a diminutive version of the six-pack yoke that had held Takahiro's beer. Misaki had used a pair of scissors to carefully cut around the rings until they were reduced to two.

"They're handcuffs," Misaki explained when Akihiko gave him a questioning look. "So you can arrest me."

Go figure that the one time Akihiko would ever receive a handmade "craft" from a child, just _had_ to be a fucking bondage object. If the universe was trying to tell him that he should never sire a brat of his own, it could consider the point well taken.

"Arrest you?" Akihiko repeated.

"For the involuntary manslaughter," Misaki replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You actually _want_ to be arrested?"

"Yes, please."

There wasn't even a scrap of hesitation in Misaki's voice. So much for duping the kid into compliance with cheap scare tactics.

"You should know that if you're found guilty and sent to jail, you could be in there for a long time. You might not see Takahiro for years," Akihiko said.

Misaki's gaze flicked to the apartment interior, where Takahiro slept obliviously on.

"I know," he said softly.

"And you're okay with that?"

"Well, no..." Misaki's glanced briefly at the concrete balcony floor before he rallied and lifted his chin to meet Akihiko's questioning stare "...but I gotta do the right thing."

Common sense told Akihiko that this had gone far enough. The boy was small and sad and in desperate need of a good night's sleep. The last thing he needed was for a complete stranger to slap a pair of makeshift handcuffs on him and accuse him of killing his parents. If Akihiko had any human decency, he would admit that he'd been pulling Misaki's leg and send him off to bed.

But if there was one thing the events of the evening had already proven, it was that Akihiko _wasn't_ a decent human. And perhaps even worse, he was a writer. A lover of stories. A watcher of cause and affect and a seeker of answers. If he dismissed Takahashi Misaki now, he might never find out why the boy wanted this, or what he would do if Akihiko followed through.

And as loathe as he was to admit it, there was just enough of Takahiro in those giant eyes--eyes that had yet to learn how to narrow in jaded skepticism--that rendered it impossible for Akihiko to deny him this one request, as ill-conceived as it may be.

"This is your last chance to back out. Do you seriously intend to go through with this?" he asked.

Misaki stared up at him. His jaw clenched with a grim resolution that had no business being on such a baby face. He pressed his wrists together and held them out.

"P-please take me to jail, officer-san," he said.

Akihiko slid the fake handcuffs over Misaki's wrists.

"Takahashi Misaki, I am placing you under arrest on suspicion of involuntary manslaughter."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> One chapter down, two more to go. Thanks for checking it out!


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